


Tea Party

by sam80853



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, due South
Genre: AU, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-15
Updated: 2011-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sam80853/pseuds/sam80853
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser comes into a bookstore and stays for a "cup of tea"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea Party

Tea party   
By sam80853

Why Constable Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, feels compelled to find a copy of his long lost and loved book The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, that was published in 1891, here, he couldn’t say. But he is certain that it’s to be found right here if he could just catch the owner.

There are no business hours on the door – an oddity in itself because how is the owner supposed to do business if no one knows when the store will be open?

Today Fraser seems to be fortunate; a bell softly chimes above the door when he enters the book store.

Just from the door Fraser knows he has found the right place – this is not an ordinary book store with trivial literature, even if he has to admit to enjoying some less heavy reading material than Kafka or Joyce.

Fraser takes a step further into the store, his companion Diefenbaker on his heels. The half-wolf is less hesitant to look for why they came here and runs along the shelves which are loaded with old and precious books.

“Diefenbaker,” Fraser is indignant over his friend’s improper behaviour; he has to have a stern word with him.

Just in the back of the store a man on a ladder sorts books on the shelves, a duster in one hand.

Fraser could not judge the man’s age but he could be fairly older than himself that would place the man in his mid-forties, perhaps even fifty; it’s really hard to tell. His clothes – very 1950 like - would confirm his estimation.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Fraser’s thumb rubs his right eyebrow – a nervous gesture he would deny in doing if you would address it. “Usually Diefenbaker is well-behaved,” he explains, “but he seems excited to find The Picture of Dorian Gray. He’s quite fond of Oscar Wilde.”

The book store owner, Aziraphale, heaven’s agent on Earth, goes through his inventory. Yes, he is in possession of the requested book – third shelf on the left, next to Buggre Alle This Bible - but usually this Angel is not in business to sale books, he just likes to store them. He’s well-known for using every means short of actual physical violence to prevent customers from making a purchase. Unpleasant damp smells, glowering looks, erratic opening hours - he is incredibly good at it. In all his years Aziraphale has only lost 3 books to a human being.

“Oh, my dear boy,” Aziraphale says – perhaps he’s able to change his customers mind and can keep the book after all without actually harming the lovely boy. A cup of tea might be in order. “Tea?” He asks, getting down the ladder.

“Thank you kindly,” Fraser is quite taken with Aziraphale’s politeness, a talent rarely found in the greater area of Chicago.

While Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP, and Aziraphale, God’s Angel on Earth, discuss the life and work of Oscar Wilde over a hot cup of bark tea Detective Stanley Raymond Kowalski, known as Ray Vecchio at the moment, has an entirely different problem on his hands. His beloved car, a 1967 Pontiac Grand Turiso Omologato, is making noises a well-oiled machine just should not make. But there is no denying it, the GTO stutters one more time and dies on Ray.

Just the perfect end for a freaking perfect day – first Ray woke up late this morning, there had to be a blackout during the night because his clock radio was just dead dead, that put him on Welsh's bad side. The copy machine exploded right under his hands – ink and all, he had run out of M&M’s and to top it all off, his partner and friend, one Constable Benton Fraser, had some errands to run that had prevented him from being able to liaise with him today. It was just not a good day in Ray Kowalski’s life and he was just thinking about how to blame it all on the Mountie when a 1926 black Bentley pulls over.

Crowley, Aziraphale’s counterpart on Earth, doesn’t look particularly demonic at this moment - he’s in his “favourite shape” as a dark haired man with good cheekbones, his yellow eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

A Best of Queens tape resounds from the inside of his car – implied black Bentley – but no one should take any conclusion because all tapes left in the car for more than a fortnight metamorphoses into Best of Queens albums.

“You need any help?” Crowley asks and if Ray had known with whom he was dealing right now, he would not have taken any offer given by the demon.

Instead they walk side by side on the sidewalk – Crowley has a friend down the street who certainly wouldn’t mind terribly if Ray would use his phone. His own cell phone is as dead as his car, of course.

As it turns out – totally accidental, of course – Benton Fraser knows Raymond Kowalski and a tea party of two turns into one for four. Not that Ray is particularly fond of tea; he prefers dark strong coffee with six M&M’s.

Two humans in company with an Angel and a Demon just could not end well – depending on how you look at it.

Aziraphale is often described as a romantic sap by Crowley who himself is just in the game to lead to temptation. But perhaps all their niggling and teasing is just about something they can never have, one another.

An Angel and a demon are not supposed to be in love with each other, they’re natural enemies, so to speak. But not just Heaven and Hell are against their love but nature, if you will call it that, which didn’t provide the necessary equipment to perform an act of love.

It’s a never ending game, one that doesn’t escape Fraser’s mind, who begins to feel slightly uncomfortable, perhaps even overly warm, listening to Crowley’s suggestions and hints towards his purely friendly relationship with Ray Kowalski.

“Perhaps now is the time to do business,” Fraser declares, putting down his cup of tea.

Aziraphale looks uneasy toward his demonic friend; he really refuses to lose one of his precious books to this human, as lovely as he may be. But Crowley just smirks and points Fraser in the direction at the back of the store.

Perhaps Aziraphale has to sacrifice a book then, for the greater good, for keeping Fraser on the right side – on his. But there is still temptation in form of Ray Kowalski who seems to be wax in Crowley’s hands or in this case, mind.

“Maybe I should help, Frase,” Ray grins and vanishes in the back of the store like his friend before.

“Tea?” Crowley offers and pours another cup of tea for Aziraphale who smiles brightly over the brim of his cup.

“Well done,” the Angel admits and both, angel and demon lean back in their chairs, satisfied with their daily work.

 

Angel: Alright, Gentlemen, the show is over. You can go home now.   
Demon: The task is to Get Fraser Laid, Zira.   
Angel: He does get laid, I can assure you.   
Demon: They could be cheating. We all wanna see it.   
Angel. Imagination, Crowley. Doesn’t have anyone imagination anymore?   
Demon: Humans are a suspicious race; you should have learnt that by now.

 

In the back of the store Constable Fraser, RCMP, reaches for the book he has come for when suddenly his friend and partner, Detective Raymond Kowalski of the Chicago Police Department, is standing close behind him. Front to back.

“Why are you afraid?” Ray asks into Fraser’s ear, his mouth barely touching sensitive skin.

“I’m certainly not afraid, Ray,” of course, Fraser has to disagree on the subject. “I just think it’s inappropriate for two strangers to manipulate our friendship.”

“Manipulate or hustle us in the right direction?”

“Ray?”

“Do you feel manipulated, Frase?” Ray moves his mouth from Fraser’s ear to his neck.

“Very much so, yes,” Fraser croaks, feeling Ray’s face moving away from his ear to his neck, sniffing right above the collar of his uniform.

“You smell great,” Ray whispers, his hands reaching for the buttons on the front of Fraser’s uniform.

Something has to be terribly wrong here, Fraser decides, it should be him sniffing and … ah, tasting, and certainly his uniform should not give in so easily to Ray’s clever fingers.

“Ray, please,” Fraser’s still fighting, Aziraphale can be proud, but Ray’s hands under his Henley, on his skin doesn’t stand a chance against an Angel and his pure thoughts.

Fraser’s head fells back now, rests on Ray’s shoulder, and he lets Ray do whatever he desires. That seems to be to undo Fraser’s trousers – also giving in much too easily; some greater power has to be involved here. Fraser’s boxers get pushed down, freeing his straining cock and there is little to do for Fraser but to groan, loudly.

“Shhhh,” Ray whispers into Fraser’s ear, his hands steadily moving on Fraser’s cock. “Easy, Frase!”

“Ray,” Fraser moans, he tries to be quiet but doesn’t succeed; his hands reach for Ray’s head, and pull him forwards.

Fraser misses with his first kiss, just touches Ray’s cheek with his lips at this awkward angle but he has to have Ray’s mouth, now.

“Now you’re getting with the program,” Ray smiles, bends and finally their lips meet in their very first kiss.

Soft lips, eager tongues, muffled moans from both men while Ray tries to keep their mouths together and not lose his rhythms on Fraser’s cock.

Fraser his moving now, into Ray’s hand that’s already slippery.

“Ray,” Fraser pants, he’s close, much too close and there is something he’s supposed to keep in mind. But his brain refuses to work properly at the moment; it’s overloaded and just not able to send any other signal through his body than to come.

“Ray!” And just at the edge of it … there is a thought … “The books, Ray!”

 

Demon: I think you have to sacrifice a book after all.

 

The End


End file.
